Good Times for All
by seastarr08
Summary: Eric Northman, a partner at a New York ad agency, is commissioned to create an ad campaign for Bon Temps, an up-and-coming Cajun fusion restaurant, but finds the job is not what he expected. One of my Deadpan contest entries! NEW:Part two is now posted!
1. Chapter 1

Uh, right. Author's note. Here's my solo deadpan entry! I'll post Dead Lost, which I wrote with the wonderful Lubadub later! Hope you enjoy, and thanks for the feedback you all gave during the contest!

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_**I have a life, and it only goes in one direction. Forward.**_** - Don Draper**

He'd been an associate at Herveaux, Norris, Brigant, and De Castro for three years before he was made a partner, after another ad agency had offered him a substantial amount of money to switch teams. Niall Brigant, one of the founding partners, had countered by offering him his name on the company and a substantial amount of money. It was the partnership that had convinced him. He cared about appearances. Growing up with very little, in Topeka, Kansas, he'd learned to value them greatly.

For three years, he'd had an amazing corner office with a view of the park, a huge expense account, and no shortage of secretaries to screw. They turned over quite quickly, leaving when they were ready to get married and have children. He'd been married, once, for a few years, but it was never his lot in life to be tied to one woman. He'd decided that, and she'd decided that as well when she'd caught him in a compromising position on the couch in his office one day. There was no denying it, after that, not that he'd ever tried before. He'd felt bad about hurting Sophie though, but she had been a secretary before, and she knew the kinds of things that went on. It was how he justified it, when she'd walked in, and her heart broke, in front of his eyes.

There had been no children. She'd wanted them, and he'd put them off. It was for the better now, that he had. Less complicated. She'd gotten the house, and now she was married to some pencil pusher. He'd seen them about a year ago, having dinner at a mid-range steak house. He'd taken her better places.

Since Sophie, he'd filled his nights with attractive women, in such succession that they all blurred together, distinguishable only by really memorable things, like the ones that did something really weird, like calling him Daddy, or the ones that gave his dick interesting names. The best one was The Crippler. He'd fucked her a couple of times, just because she was creative.

It was the sixties, so there was no shortage of skirts to chase, be it a waitress, a stewardess, a shop girl, or anyone else that caught his eye. He liked girls in uniforms; they were usually easy. Women were starting to think themselves liberated, both spiritually and sexually, and he was happy to do what he could to push the woman's movement along. He'd fucked a few hot clients, and print ad models, but he found it usually led to problems. He was a professional, and the best at what he did. It's why he was always in such high demand, and muddying the waters usually irritated him. Clients came to him, for his provocative campaigns, which were always attention getters; the topic of much conversation.

When Niall called him into his office, which was the largest in the company, and designed with a Middle Eastern, Arabian Nights theme, he remembered why he'd chosen Herveaux, Norris, Brigant, and De Castro, when he was fresh on the job market, after the war. They were innovative, eccentric.

Brigant's office was complete with colourful cushions on the floor, tapestries on the wall, designed to make the room look like a tent. He'd even been known to have his secretary dress up like a belly dancer on occasion, for special meetings. When he thought about it, eccentric didn't even cover it.

"Eric Northman, thank you for taking time out of your schedule to meet with me. I know we keep you quite busy around here." He patted the cushion on the floor beside him, and Eric sat down, his long legs awkwardly in front of him. Brigant didn't do much more anymore. He was rarely in the office.

"Of course Niall, I'm always interested in hearing what you have to say." He was ancient, and an icon in the ad game. He usually had some interesting insight. Or some completely bat shit crazy philosophies. Either way, a visit to his office was always worthwhile. He was brilliant, having come up with a very famous sunscreen ad about ten years prior. He got Eric's need to be provocative.

"My old college roommate, Corbett Stackhouse, contacted me a few days ago, to inquire about using our services for his restaurant. You've heard of Bon Temps, right?"

Good times. He certainly had. It was very chic, very up and coming, serving a mix of French and Cajun cuisine. Nailing their ad campaign would be quite the feather in his cap. "Yes, I dined there a few weeks ago. Good atmosphere."

"Well, Corbett is involved financially in the business; it's his children that run it. They want a campaign, and I want you to do it. I don't want Herveaux Jr., just you. It's a big account, and they have other interests that we'd be wise to look into involving ourselves in."

"Okay?" He was confused. He usually worked quite well with Alcide, the son of one of the senior partners. He was the ideas man, and Alcide was the businessman.

Niall leaned in, bringing his face close to his. "This campaign needs to be really strong. I want you to dedicate all your efforts to it, for as long as it takes. The daughter needs you at 2am, you're there. They're about to get some unwanted publicity, and Corbett is worried about business."

He swallowed. "What kind of unwanted publicity?"

"I'll let the daughter fill you in. She runs the place primarily. You'll be dealing with her. She's very smart. Her brother is quite irresponsible, but has great connections."

"Great, when do I start?"

"I took the liberty of arranging a lunch meeting, for the two of you at Bon Temps. Today. You'll meet her at 1pm."

"Sounds good." Eric went back to his office and replaced the grey tie he was wearing with the blue one that the office manager, Pam, said made his eyes stand out. He fixed his hair, and made his best panty wetting face in the mirror. The Stackhouse girl was going to be putty in his hands.

He poured himself a glass of scotch, lit up a cigarette, and took some time to write some ideas down that he'd had. He always had ideas, they poured from him, like the scotch from the bottle. He'd been able to avoid service in the Korean War, because of his ideas. He'd been drafted, but when they saw his marketing background, and his ivy league degree, he was put to work writing the tag lines for recruitment posters. He'd done his part, in a roundabout way. For a while, he had issues with the work he was doing, encouraging young men to go and die for a cause which he deemed pointless from the beginning. His parents were Swedish, so he had not been raised with the American values that pushed people to sign up out of some nationalistic obligation. He felt completely unobligated to risk his life, for people he didn't know. Call it selfishness, call it survivalist, he didn't care. He'd be grateful not to have had to go to that God forsaken country. He had friends, good friends, from University that never made it back.

There was no use thinking too much about that. It wouldn't bring them back. He grabbed his khaki overcoat, put it over his Brooks Brothers suit, and pulled on his fedora. It was a cool day in April, not quite warm enough to go without a jacket.

Bon Temps was not far from the office, so he decided to walk, and enjoy the day. His life had fallen into a bit of a mundane pattern; wake up, work, eat out, cruise for tail, fuck, sleep, and repeat. On some days, certain activities would take up more or less of his time, but it was not a routine he was unhappy with. He found it quite fulfilling, in its own way. He wasn't a complicated man, at least he liked to think he wasn't. He told himself that was why he avoided attachments, in order to keep thing simple.

He walked into the restaurant, and was immediately struck by the incredible decor choices. If Ms. Stackhouse selected these things, then she had very eclectic tastes. Perhaps that was why the Stackhouses got along with Niall so well; a penchant for the unusual. The colour scheme screamed disorganization, a mix of deep purples with oranges and greens, with some red thrown in for good measure. It somehow worked. The place was packed. It was huge, occupying the bottom floor of a very high end apartment building in the financial district. The location was fantastic.

He approached the hostess, a redhead with huge breasts. "I'm here to meet Ms. Stackhouse."

"You must be Mr. Northman, please, come with me. She's expecting you."

She led him to a private table, in the back. He was not expecting what he saw. She stood to greet him and she was a knockout. Long blond hair, loosely tied back, great breasts, and curvy hips, encased in a tight red dress that matched her lips. Her huge blue eyes were playful, beckoning him. He'd imagined her to be a bit of an old maid, unmarried, working for her father. He was pleasantly surprised, and found his thoughts drawn to what was underneath the tight, red silk. "Mr. Northman?"

"Ms. Stackhouse." She brought her hand up to meet his, and he was surprised to see a huge diamond ring on a very telling finger. "Or is it Mrs., something?"

"Mrs. Compton. I use Stackhouse for the business. Niall didn't tell me you were so, tall." She eyed him up and down and smiled sweetly.

He'd thought she looked familiar. "You're Governor Compton's wife. I couldn't place you."

She sat back down, and he watched her shift as she crossed her legs. "Indeed I am. So, I thought we'd have lunch, and then I'd give you the tour, and then we could go to my apartment and talk business. I live upstairs. I like to conduct business in a more personal setting. Makes it not seem so official. I have my staff meetings in my apartment." William Compton was at least fifteen years older than her. He placed her at around 30. The Comptons were one of the founding families, lots of old, old money. When he'd ran for office, Eric had always wondered how he'd managed to score such an attractive wife. He had assumed that she was a trophy, but he wasn't getting that impression from the delectable creature before him. She was smart, if she was running this place.

Her southern accent made his dick hard. He'd always had a thing for accents. Sophie had been from Texas. It was the first thing that attracted him to her, after her tight little body, and naivety. He'd loved that, for a while, but it had gotten old. They'd never been able to carry on a deep conversation. He was always telling her things, but she had very little to contribute, probably as a result of her sheltered upbringing. "That sounds amenable. So, Niall told me to ask you about some unwanted publicity that we're countering with this ad campaign." He looked into her eyes, and a smile came over his face. It was uncontrollable. She was like sunshine, bright, welcoming, warm. He couldn't imagine her fucking an old fart like Bill Compton.

"We'll talk business in a bit. First, I want you to see what you'll be creating a campaign for. The food is the best part of Bon Temps. I'll order for you." He thought that was unusual, but went with it, and wasn't disappointed. The Cajun shrimp with escargot and gumbo was the best meal he'd had in weeks.

"This is amazing." He lit her cigarette, and they sat there for a few minutes, enjoying a comfortable silence. He liked her; she was easy to talk to.

"I'm glad you approve. I'm very interested to see what you hammer out, of that brilliant brain of yours. Niall brought your portfolio over a few weeks ago, when we had him for dinner. Come on, we'll take the tour."

He left the tip, twenty-five percent, on the table, and followed her back, into the kitchen. It was very modern and clean. "Eric, this is Lafayette. He's the head cook." Lafayette was a very flamboyant black man, wearing more makeup than Mrs. Compton.

He reached out his hand, and Eric took it. "Pleased to meet you."

"Laf came up with the menu. He made this place the success it is." He put an arm around Ms. Stackhouse.

"I've known Sook since we were kids. She's really the reason all this came together. Don't sell yourself short, Sug." Eric thought her quite progressive, having hired a black homosexual as her head chef. He was impressed. They continued their tour, and he was impressed. Bon Temps was popular, but with his help, he was fairly confident that he could make it the place to eat.

"I have to say, Mrs. Compton, I am impressed. You are running quite the establishment." He had been calling her Ms. Stackhouse in his head, because for some reason, it bothered him to think of her with William Compton.

She smiled. "Thank you. Shall we go up to my home office and chat a bit further?"

"Of course." She led the way, taking him through a back door and into a posh lobby. They took the elegant elevator to the penthouse. She smelled amazing, fuckable, in the small space. He hadn't expected any less. "Tell me, Mrs. Compton, Niall said your family was wealthy, but by what means?" Eric's family had been working class, so he was usually a bit apprehensive when it came to unearned wealth. From what he had seen at Bon Temps, Ms. Stackhouse earned her keep.

"We come from old money, but my father has made the majority of our money recently on real estate investments. Recently, he has been buying businesses that show promise, but aren't terribly successful, and refreshing them, with new management or renovations, like we did with Bon Temps. He's been very successful." He appreciated that they didn't just sit back on their wealth, and that at least one of Corbett Stackhouse's children worked quite hard. He knew nothing of the brother.

They got off the elevator and walked into an elegant apartment. It was very southern, but screamed New York at the same time. He decided she was a master at fusion, in all areas of her life. "My office is just in here." They walked through an elegant living room, with a grand piano.

"Do you play?"

"No, Bill does." She grazed her hand across the keys. "He's not here very often though." She raised an eyebrow. He wondered what that meant. He wasn't used to dealing with women like her, beyond business. He liked to be on top; with her, he wasn't sure he would be. He was enjoying the way she took control, and it surprised him. "Come on, in here." She brought him into a very New York office, complete with a decanter and a cigar humidor.

"Is this Mr. Compton's office?"

She rolled her eyes. "No. It's all mine. Do you not often conduct business with women, Mr. Northman?"

"I do, but not with women that smoke cigars."

She smiled. "I'm not like most women." He wondered what that meant too. "So, we're about to have a shitstorm rain down on this family. Niall said you were a master at public relations. I'd like to hire you in that capacity as well, as to create a campaign for us."

"I'd be amenable to that arrangement, once I find out what exactly the 'shitstorm', as you so eloquently called it, entails."

"My husband is having an affair, one that is going to go public, within a matter of weeks."

He raised his eyebrows. He was cheating on her? Eric was slightly surprised that he would feel the need to fuck anyone other than his young, hot wife. Only slightly surprised though, since he had fucked people other than his young, hot wife. "That's it? Men have affairs all the time. Why don't you just file for divorce, and why is it going public?"

"He's fucking our pool boy. Or he was, rather. I don't think Rodolfo would continue, since he is no longer employed by us. I should have known, since we have a very small pool, at our Kennebunkport estate, that we only use for two months out of the year. There was never a need to have anyone on full time. I fired him, once I realized that we were paying him nearly $15,000 a year for nothing, and now he's going to the press." She sat back in her chair and sighed. Eric felt like there was more to this than she was telling him.

"There's more to this. If you want my help, Ms. Stackhouse, then I'll need to have your full discretion." He strategically raised an eyebrow, knowing the reaction it usually got.

She sighed again. "Fine. I may have set the whole thing up, firing him. It had nothing to do with the money. We have lots of money. I want out of this marriage, and I want the sympathy vote, so it won't affect my business. I wouldn't have got it otherwise, unless he was at fault. I'm a successful woman, and people are uncomfortable with that. Rodolfo is a publicity whore. I found out, six months ago, but I've been biding my time." Eric was both surprised and impressed by her execution of this plan. She was smart. He felt a bit of sympathy for her anyway, marrying an older man, only to be rejected for a pool boy. He was sure he could amp that up. Compton was going to be ruined, politically, and socially by this. Society was not very accepting of his lifestyle choices, especially for those in the public eye, like he was. John Kennedy on the other hand, he could cheat as much as he wanted, but it was with a gorgeous woman, not a pool boy.

"I have to say, I'm impressed. I think I can help you gain the sympathy vote."

"Mmmm. There's a reason, I specifically requested you, Mr. Northman, besides your professional reputation, which is impressive." She crossed her legs again. It did not escape him.

"Oh, what would that be?"

"Your other reputation." She looked at him, and he knew what she was getting at. "Niall thought you might be just the one to help me, with some, companionship."

Eric was confused about what kind of companionship she was talking about. He decided to go with the more innocent option, but hope for the more provocative one. "So you want me to escort you, for meals and to parties?"

"I think that was Niall's idea, for this to be an innocent arrangement. Maybe refresh your reputation as well. I, however, want you to fuck me, or at least have it appear as though you are. Niall said that you are quite indiscriminate with your conquests, and experienced." She licked her lips, and he felt himself grow hard. She'd opted for the less innocent of the options, and he was itching with anticipation with the possibilities. She was exquisite. "If you're uncomfortable with the concept, then I will have to explore other options. I have been alone for far too long, Mr. Northman, and I have needs." Six months was a long time without sex, and if Bill was more interested in pool boys, he doubted that he was fucking his wife often before that, and certainly not in the way she deserved to be fucked.

"It's Eric." He decided right there, that he'd be more than willing to go along with her plan. In fact, he decided that she was the most brilliant strategist that he'd ever met.

"You can call me Susannah, or Sookie, if you prefer. My friends call me Sookie. Bill calls me Susannah." She smiled sweetly. He was impressed that she had the balls to deliver her plan, to a man she barely knew. "Niall highly recommended you, and I have to confess, I did see a picture beforehand."

"I'll go with Sookie then. I'm intrigued by your offer. I will have to draw a line at the hours I'm billing you for, as I will not be comfortable charging you for some of my services." He raised an eyebrow.

"I was hoping you'd say that. So you're interested?"

"More than interested." This was a surprising turn of events. One he was pretty happy about. "So where do we go from here?"

"To my bedroom?" She winked. "Too forward?"

"No. I have to admit, Sookie, I'm quite turned on by you. You're gorgeous, and your intelligence is oddly refreshing. I'd love to take you to bed." He was fairly confident that while she was in control of some things outside of the bedroom, the Bill situation would give him a certain advantage in the bedroom. He knew he was the more experienced, and he guessed her confidence had been slightly shattered by her discovery. He'd ask for more details later.

"Shall we proceed to the pleasurable part of our meeting then?" She stood up, and he followed her, out the door, and down a hallway to a master suite. This room was very _Gone with the Wind_, old south, with a four poster bed and floral accents. It worked though.

They looked at each other for a minute, anticipating what was underneath all the formality they'd been working under for the past couple of hours, and their clothes, too. She began, by stepping out of her peep-toe pumps. "Unzip me?"

"With pleasure." He came up behind her, and slid the zipper on her dress down. It pooled to the floor around her feet.

Black panties with a matching bra. It was his personal belief that women only wore black underwear if they were planning on getting fucked. He was glad he'd lived up to her expectations. She stepped out of her red dress. Her body lived up to his expectations. She was a bombshell, and he fucked attractive women all the time. "Your husband is a fool."

"Thank you for saying so." She smiled, as he unbuttoned his shirt, dropping it to the floor. She walked over to the bed, confidently, and laid down, propping herself up on her elbows. He couldn't wait to bury himself inside of her. He dropped his pants next, and joined her on the bed. His size was impressive to most, and he thought she'd be no exception. He lowered himself onto her, and kissed her deeply.

She moaned into his mouth. Her breath tasted like the red wine they'd shared at lunch. They both enjoyed the kiss. She shifted, as he pushed himself into her hip.

He was on his best behaviour, from a sexual perspective. He also wanted this to be an arrangement they carried on for a bit, since they'd be working so closely together. He'd make the mixing business with pleasure exception, in this case. He also decided that he wanted her to want him, because a small part of him, but more than he was comfortable with, wanted her. Maybe just for fucking on a regular basis, but maybe for something more. He'd never met a woman that he had surprised him so much, in such a short amount of time.

"I want more." She said, breathlessly.

He smiled at her, and reached behind her, removing her bra quickly and effectively. He took one breast in his mouth, the other in his hand, and began toying with her. He assumed that if her husband was into pool boys, it was unlikely that he was a breast man. She was moaning like she'd never been touched there, like no one had ever taken the time. He hoped, for her sake, that that wasn't the case, but he was enjoying her ministrations all the same. She brought her hips up to meet him, and he slowly continued his way down her body. When he reached her black, lacy panties, she lifted her hips for him to slide them off.

He lowered his head between her legs, sliding his tongue in and out of her folds. Her breathing hitched. "No one has ever touched me like that before," she said, breathless. Eric decided that her husband was a selfish bastard, right then and there.

"Then they've missed out. You taste like honey." He didn't think he'd ever tasted anyone as sweet. It must have been all the Cajun fusion cooking.

She wondered what he tasted like, but soon all thoughts left her mind, as he began making her feel aroused in a way she'd never felt before. She sat back on her elbows and let the events of the past six months melt away. She smiled at him, as he moved up beside her, brushing some hair out of her face. She'd never taken Bill in her mouth; their sex life had consisted solely of missionary sex on Saturday nights with the lights out, but she thought it was a good a time as any. She eased him onto his back, and reciprocated.

At first, she was completely and utterly shocked at his size, but as she began running her tongue over him, she thought of some of the advantages to it that she'd be reaping shortly. He moaned, and she thoroughly enjoyed knowing that she was bringing him pleasure, despite her lack of experience.

"Fuck, that feels good." She thought of responding, but chose to be polite and not talk with her mouth full, and from his continued moans, she decided that he appreciated her choice. When he began bucking his hips, she decided that she'd rather be benefiting from his actions in other ways, and moved up to meet his face. He captured her mouth with his, and rolled on top of her.

"Are you ready for me, Lover?" He grinned at her, as he positioned himself.

"I certainly hope so. I'm pleased to see that you measure up in more way than one." She smiled back, and then moaned as he slowly entered her, inch by inch. There were a lot of inches, she decided.

When he was all the way in, she glanced over and checked the clock. 5pm. Bill's timing was always impeccable, as was hers. He'd be here any minute. She hoped Eric wasn't too angry with her, for using him, but she thought he'd get over it. He moved in and out, at an excruciatingly slow pace, and she arched her back to meet him. She wrapped a leg around his hip, and he grunted his approval. Things were really heating up when she heard the key she was expecting turn in the door. He stopped moving, and looked at her. "Don't stop."

He shrugged. "Whatever you say. It is your house, after all."

"Sookie, darling, are you home?" She rolled her eyes, and pouted when Eric stopped moving.

"Don't stop."

Eric suddenly realized what her game was, and while he should have been mad, a part of him appreciated that she thought he was the perfect man to make her husband jealous. He assumed it was because he was very attractive, or so he'd been told. He was also younger, and self-made. Bill's opposite in every way. If she wanted to make him jealous, he'd certainly aide her in her mission. He had, after all said that he'd help her. He increased his speed, and she cried out his name. That ought to do the trick, he thought to himself. He was aware that his body was quite exposed, and he thought that would probably work to her benefit, so he didn't make any attempts to cover himself.

Sookie glanced up, to see Bill standing in the doorway, unmoving. She knew that, while his tastes were varied, that he was also very possessive, and seeing an attractive, younger man, fucking his wife, in his house, in their bed, would infuriate him. She hoped it did, just as she'd been infuriated at catching him in their bed, at their summer estate. Hopefully this infuriated him more. She'd wondered for years about his sexual orientation, but his blatant disregard for their bed irritated her. He was silent, as he watched Eric thrust away. Sookie was very impressed with his stamina, and even more so when he leaned over and whispered in her ear. "He's watching, right?"

"Yes." She whispered, as she kissed him, hard.

He pulled away, slightly. "Do you want me to finish?"

"Yes, and I would like to finish as well." She raised her voice. "Bill, will you excuse us. Perhaps you could go sit in the living room, and close the door." Eric was aroused, by her cheeky behavior. She really didn't give a shit anymore. He liked that.

Bill stood there, for another few seconds. He looked even older than Eric remembered from the papers. "I will speak to you shortly." He turned and closed the door. They were the picture of dysfunction.

Eric grinned at Sookie. "Would you still like him to hear us?"

"Yes, please." She smiled at him sweetly.

"Would you like to be on top?"

"I've never been on top." He rolled over, taking her with him.

"Now you have been." She liked being on top, and took control easily. He knew she would, and took the opportunity to knead her breasts in his hands, which made her moan uncontrollably. He thought Bill would appreciate that.

She moved up and down him, varying her speed in a very experienced way. He was impressed with her natural sexabilities. She was also amping up the volume on her, vocals. They were turning him on, as were her small hands on his chest. He groaned, as she pinched his nipple. "Fuck, Lover."

"Oh, Eric." She moaned slightly exaggeratedly, but he felt like there was a bit of truth in there as well. He could tell she was close, and he attempted to delay her orgasm for as long as possible. For Bill's benefit, of course. When he felt like neither of them could take it any longer, and he felt her fall over the edge, he came, loudly. "Ohhh, Mrs. Compton." He cried out, and she giggled, as she collapsed on top of him. They lay there for a moment, connected in their shared revenge mission. And in the fuckhot sex they'd just had. That too.

He really liked her style. She didn't sit back and have her heart broken. She was proactive.

She also appreciated his style. And his willingness to help her out. She decided that this was the beginning of a beautiful, wonderful, mutually beneficial relationship. He brushed his fingers through her hair, and she smiled softly at him.

He was a really great lay. And her husband was in the living room. "Will you stay?" she questioned.

"And help you with him? Sure."

"Can I tell him you're my lover?"

"I am your lover. We just fucked."

"Right. Sorry, I've never had a lover before." Sookie giggled, rolled to the side and grabbed them both a cigarette, lighting his for him. She didn't care about his reputation. He was good in her books, both in and out of the sack. When she was finished, she pulled herself up, put on his shirt and threw him a robe.

"Is this Bill's?"

"It was just dry cleaned." She was adding insult to injury, and she knew it. It had been her plan all along. Eric was perfect for this. He had balls, she thought as he shrugged, pulling it over him. It was, short on him. He had great thighs. Sookie wondered if Bill would appreciate them as much as she did. She didn't really want to think about that. She opened the door, taking Eric's hand as she proceeded into the hallway. He upped the ante by putting an arm around her waist in a protective way. He knew it was silly, but even after knowing her for a day, he wanted to protect her, even though he knew she really didn't need it.

"Hello Bill."

"Sookie, what the hell is going on here? Who is he?"

"Bill, this is my lover, Eric. Eric, my husband, Bill."

Eric smiled at Bill. He felt a bit bad for him, not because he had just fucked his wife, but because he was about to lose a lot more than that. From what she'd said, he'd lost her ages ago. As someone who loved his job, he sympathized, a little bit. Bill did not return his smile, instead choosing to keep his eye contact with Sookie, who was looking thoroughly fucked, her once perfect hair askew. This was not what he had expected his afternoon to consist of, but he wasn't complaining. It was a break from the banality of his usual schedule, with the fucking included. He chalked it up to a good day.

"Bill, I want a divorce."

"Apparently."

"Rodolfo will be going to the press. I've fired him. There is no way that you get to have fun in this loveless marriage. I will not be used to further your political agenda any longer." She sat down on the chaise and pulled Eric down with her. The demise of his own marriage had been so quiet, with lots of papers signed. This was going to be fiery. "I was resigned to our arrangement. I got to run my own business, you stayed out of that, but I will not tolerate you carrying on sexual dalliances out of the public eye, while I am scrutinized for my friendships and the people I choose to hire." Eric was impressed. Her reasons for outing Bill were unexpected. She didn't like the lie that he perpetuated, both to her and to the public. He thought she was forward, for employing Lafayette, but he was also fairly certain that she was scrutinized for her actions, because of his lifestyle.

Bill glared at her. "This will ruin me."

"You didn't seem too concerned about that, when you were grunting in the pool house. Bill Compton, you've made your own bed here, and I want you out of mine, completely."

"Sookie I..." Bill's eyes had narrowed.

"I'm not finished yet, in this sense." She winked at Eric, who leaned back on the chaise. He had thoroughly finished her, in another sense. "You chided me, for hiring Lafayette, for the damage it might do to your reputation. You publicly spoke against homosexuals in the public sphere. You told me I couldn't hire my best friend, because of his sexual orientation, and now this? I'm angry Bill, and I have every right to be."

"I..."

"I'm still not finished. I've wanted a divorce for years, and I've been trying to figure out how to do this, without people assuming that I'm just acting out, as I'm married so such an old, boring man. I know how women that file for divorce are viewed. Even if you were having an affair with a woman, I'd still be judged for not standing by you. You gave me the perfect out. I'm kind of sorry that it will come at such a high cost to you, but you always did call me selfish. By the way, don't even think of denying it. There are photos. Things have already been set in motion."

Eric loved her southern accent, being used in such an articulate, well thought out way. It made it even sexier to him. He was sure there were closeted men, all over the workforce, probably one or two in his office, if he thought about it hard enough. Most had the sense not to marry, as a woman scorned can be a very dangerous thing. Bill had tried to have it all, and, from the looks of the way things were developing, he had failed quite miserably.

"Are you quite done, Susannah?" Bill had stopped making eye contact with her, and was looking past her. Eric felt a little bit awkward, being witness so such devastation on his end of things, but Sookie was an important client, and he'd played a part in this as well. "I will remove my things within the week." He stood up, trying hard to look dignified. Eric thought it didn't work, since his wife had just handed him his balls on a platter. Bill walked towards the door.

"Oh, Bill?" Sookie shouted after him.

"Yes, Susannah?" He stopped, shy of the elevator.

"Send the car and driver back." She smiled sweetly at him. Sookie felt fortunate that her father had had the foresight to keep all of their investments in his name. She'd have him sign over Bon Temps, once she was officially divorced. She sat back and smiled, as the elevator door closed. "Thank you for staying, you really nailed the point home." She giggled. Eric thought it was adorable. He was impressed that she'd maintained her composure so well.

" You are most welcome. I should be thanking you, for your business, of course." She had been a great fuck. Better than he'd had in a while.

She checked the clock on the wall. 6pm. "Eric, would you like to eat? I'd love to show you some things on the dinner menu."

"Only if I can have you for dessert." He raised an eyebrow.

"You took the words right out of my mouth." She smiled at him, sweetly as ever. "We should clean up first though. Join me in the shower?"

When the story broke, as planned, two weeks later, Eric and Sookie were dining on a patio in Soho, and smiled for photographers. Bill, as Sookie anticipated, denied the rumours at first, but had no choice but to resign from his position when a few strategic pictures leaked to the press of a rather steamy encounter with an effeminate pool boy. Sookie asked for nothing in the divorce, and things proceeded quite quickly.

Eric didn't have to work very hard to spin things positively for Sookie. Her plan, combined with Lafayette at her side, had made her a martyr for both divorcees and, the ever growing gay and civil rights movement. Her grace and poise, in a difficult situation that no one wanted to imagine being in, had made her popular with everyone else. He helped her with her press statements, which were always gracious, and continued to see her, both privately and publicly.

It took him a while to come up with a great ad campaign, because she kept him sufficiently distracted, but within a few weeks, he had the perfect tagline. It was simple, clean, and those in the know would get the double meaning.

**Bon Temps. Good times for all.**

_**During the 1960s, I think, people forgot what emotions were supposed to be. And I don't think they've ever remembered. **_

**- Andy Warhol**


	2. Chapter 2

**Yea! I've been dying to do an update for this ever since I wrote the first part! I hope you enjoy, and thanks to Sallydoodle for her help with the ending!**

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**Six Months Later...**

He sat back on the couch in his office, one he had spent many nights on when Sophie first kicked him out.

"A little deeper, Yolanda, if you can." He ran his fingers through her hair, focusing on the in and out motion around his cock.

The brunette pulled her mouth away, and replied breathlessly. "It's Yvetta, Mr. Northman."

He nodded. "Yes. Yvetta. Of course. A little deeper, darling, if you can. Use your hand if you have to."

She nodded back, and wrapped her hand around his length. "It's just that, well, you're so large, and..." She shook her head, and smiled sweetly. "Never mind."

He smiled, as she made a concerted effort to perfect her deep throating skills. He'd make sure she got a great Christmas bonus this year. Maybe a turkey as well. Pam, the office manager, got a turkey. Yvetta had only been his secretary for a few weeks, and besides her willingness to learn, she was also very productive. A top notch employee, in his opinion.

He felt himself close to coming, and was looking forward to watching her swallow every drop, when his door whipped opened, and was darkened by an all too familiar face, followed by Pam, who looked at him, a deadpan expression on her face. "I tried to stop her, Mr. Northman, but she was quite insistent.

Yvetta removed her mouth from him, as he glanced up at five foot six inches of pure bitch. Sookie Stackhouse. He started with her red high heels, and then her black fishnets, and then a little black dress that hugged every curve of her. He ended with her face, which was, unimpressed, although, he reasoned, she had no reason to be.

"Christ, Eric. It's 8:30 in the morning." She glanced at Yvetta, indifferently. "Run along now. We are not to be disturbed."

Yvetta rose to her feet, straightened her dress, and reached for Eric's fly. He shook his head, as she began to zip it up. "Hold my calls."

"Yes sir." She nodded in Sookie's direction, and she snorted at her.

"Honestly, that's the best you can do? Eurotrash?" She sat down at his desk, crossing her legs deliciously. He thought she looked a little too comfortable in his office, although, he reasoned, she had been quite comfortable in here a few months earlier, when he fucked her on that very couch during a 'business' meeting.

"I don't think you're in any position to comment, Ms. Stackhouse. Now what can I do for you? I believe I transferred your account to Mr. Herveaux, did I not?" He sat back down on the couch, after adjusting his pants, irritated that she hadn't walked in five minutes later.

"Yes, and he's doing a mediocre job, but that's not why I'm here, Eric." Emphasis on the Eric. He hadn't missed her intonation.

He leaned back on the couch, kicking his feet up. "Why are you here then, Ms. Stackhouse? I believe last time we spoke you said you were forgetting I existed, and then you threw a vase at my head, for quite unfounded reasons."

"Unfounded?" She looked at him incredulously. "You were fucking someone in the bathroom of my establishment. That violates any number of health codes. I could have been shut down on Halloween, for crying out loud. We were packed that night."

Eric rolled his eyes. "Please, let's not pretend it was the health code violation that was bothering you. You were mad that I was fucking your hostess, and not you." He remembered the talk they had had the week before, which involved a lack of exclusivity between them, and also remembered that it was she that brought it up, and practically insisted on it. He'd been quite satisfied fucking her alone, and often, as their arrangement had been for the two months previous.

"Don't be ridiculous. You and I both knew we were going nowhere fast."

"And you and the dog food man went everywhere fast, and that was much better?" She'd had a whirlwind romance with Sam Merlotte, the owner of an international pet food company. They were a match made in the society pages. "I heard you got engaged from Brigant. I guess congratulations are in order." He eyed the large ring on her hand. It was generic. A huge solitaire. He wasn't surprised.

"Sam and I are very happy." She looked thoughtful. "Unfortunately, he's good at math."

"Huh?"

She sighed as she reached in her purse, pulled out a photo, and slid it across his desk. He got up from the couch, picked it up, and examined it carefully. An ultrasound photo. "What's this? You came to tell me that he knocked you up, and that's why you're engaged? Darling, I don't give a shit why you're marrying him."

She sighed, again. "Darling." She rolled her eyes. "He is not the one that knocked me up."

Realization slowly sank in, as he thumbed the picture between his fingers. "How do you know it's mine?"

"Because I'm three month's pregnant, and I've only been fucking him for three weeks."

"And why should I believe you?"

"Because, Eric, do you honestly think I'd be here, if I didn't know?"

He thought about it. She had a point, after the way they'd parted ways a couple of months ago. "You don't look pregnant."

"I'm going to, very soon, and there are going to be lots of questions, which is why I'm here."

"I don't know what to tell you." He tried to still the hundreds of thoughts racing through his mind. A baby? His baby? With the goddess whore he'd once fantasized fucking on their wedding night in Vegas?

"I don't want you to tell me anything. This is our problem. We need to make some decisions. It's your baby too." She crossed her arms over her chest. He noticed that it was a bit larger.

"What kind of decisions?" He knew what kind of decisions, but he wanted her to say it, so he wasn't the one to bring it up.

She didn't want to bring it up either. It wasn't something she was comfortable with. "I'm having it."

"Him." He said, his voice certain. "It's a boy."

"How can you be so sure?" She cocked her head at him.

He looked down, avoiding her eyes. "Just a feeling. I'll pay child support. You won't have to fight me on that. I believe you, because, as you said, you wouldn't be here otherwise."

Her voice wavered. "Sam said he'd raise the child. I'm really just here as a courtesy, and despite the fact that you are an asshole, you deserved to know."

How noble, Eric thought. "Well I'm sure you'll be a lovely family, and no one will ask any questions when our son is well over six feet, when Sam is a paltry 5'9, if I'm not mistaken." He spat the last part out, unable to hide his anger.

"Eric, we aren't together, and before today, I'm sure you thought that was for the best." She was right, he had. She'd hurt him, in a way he wasn't aware he could be hurt. He hadn't realized how he felt about her, until she'd rejected him, and by then, it was too late.

"You're right. I wouldn't be with you, if you were the last woman on earth. You're far too complicated for my liking." He told himself he preferred women like Yolanda, but deep down, he knew that was a lie. She was not complicated enough.

"Exactly, and you are far too selfish for my liking." She stood up, and for the first time, he noticed a small bump in her very tight dress. "I won't deny you visitation, if it's something you want, but as a family friend. This paternity business stays between you, Sam and I."

Her hands went to her stomach, and he knew that the words she'd been saying were well rehearsed, by her, in her head. He decided they weren't really what she wanted, or she wouldn't have had to rehearse them. "If that's what you want, then that's fine. I won't ruin your reputation Lover." He stopped himself, as soon as the words came out of his mouth. It was the wrong thing to say, if anything had ever been the wrong thing to say.

She looked taken aback. "I'm not your lover. Goodbye Eric. I'll see you around, and I'll make sure you're notified when the baby is born." She walked towards the door, quickly, so he wouldn't see her tears.

"Sookie?"

She didn't turn around, her hand on the doorknob. "Yes?"

"I'll take your campaign back, from Alcide, if you want."

She was quiet, for a minute. "I think it would really help the business, if you would."

"Then I will. Call me if you need anything."

She choked. "I will." And with that she was gone. Eric had Yvetta send flowers. He didn't sign the card.

Two months passed, and he didn't hear from her. He'd taken over the marketing campaign for Bon Temps again, but dealt with the brother, who didn't give a shit about what he did. He did a good job, thought, and told himself it was for his son. It would benefit him, if the business prospered, not that he wouldn't be well off anyway, as the son of a dog food magnate. Merlotte was rich, without a doubt, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he wouldn't be the father his son deserved. He wouldn't respect Sam, and if he was as smart as his mother, he'd figure out that he wasn't his real father before his tenth birthday, when he surpassed him in height.

It was a week after Christmas, and he'd popped into the office, which was closed for New Years to pick up a bit of work for a doughnut campaign he wanted to get a head start on, when he saw her, at the coffee shop on the corner. She was alone, and had a distant look on her face. Against his better judgement, but because he couldn't resist, he walked in, ordered a coffee, and a piece of pecan pie with two forks, and slid into her booth. "Happy holidays."

She'd been crying. The holidays hadn't been easy. Things were never as easy as they seemed, at first glance, especially when you were carrying one man's child and engaged to another. "Thanks."

He noticed that she was substantially larger than the last time he saw her, and reality sunk in, a little harder than before. "How have you been?"

"Well, I'm over the morning sickness, but none of my clothes fit." She patted her stomach. "I'm ok."

"Good." He smiled, and handed her a fork. "Have some pecan pie. Your favourite."

"You remembered." She gave him a half smile, and took the fork. "This baby is kickin' the hell out of me lately."

"I'm sure he is." Eric grinned broadly. "Good luck with him. I was hell on wheels as a kid."

"Some things never change, huh?" She took a big bite of pie.

"Some things don't, but some things do." He took a bite of the crust, leaving the pecan filling for her. He didn't like to see her so sad. He'd told himself the arrangement they'd worked out was for the best. It didn't look like she'd be able to argue that with a straight face now.

They finished their coffee and pie, and shared a few moments of comfortable silence. They'd always been comfortable around each other, despite their other shortcomings. "I need to pop up to the office quickly, but then we can share a cab if you want. I assume you're going home?" He handed her her coat.

"Sure, that would be fine." She took the coat, and wrapped it around her. He did the math in his head. She was five months pregnant. Four months to go. Quietly, she followed him through the lobby, and they rode the elevator back up to his office, where he'd forgot the mockups for the doughnut campaign. He grabbed them from his desk, and headed out into the empty office. "It's weird up here, empty. No flirty secretaries stroking your 'ego'." She grinned. He loved her dirty innuendo sense of humor. It was so un-ladylike, and made it clear she'd grown up Jason Stackhouse's sister.

"Indeed." And then it happened. It was the smallest form of contact possible, a brush of two fingers, and all the carefully constructed barriers he spent a lifetime building fell down around him, as he picked her up, and sat her down on Yolanda's desk, his lips crashing into hers. She squeaked out some form of acceptance of his action, and her barriers fell as well, as she brought her hands up to her face.

Sam had rejected her the morning before, when she reached for him, using the excuse that he was too tired, but she knew that wasn't it. It was another man's child between them. The way he looked her had changed, a little bit each day, along with her growing stomach. Sam was a gentleman, but it was a hard thing to overlook, even if he never said anything to her, because he was too kind. She wrapped her hands around his neck, never feeling like something was so right, as this very moment, and it broke her heart, in a way, knowing who he was. This would never work, but in this moment, it did. She pulled away, mourning the loss of his lips on hers. "I want you."

He shook his head. "Not here, and not like this, not anymore." His hands went to her stomach. "It's not just about you and I anymore."

He was right, she thought. "You're right."

"I wish I wasn't." He whispered, kissing her again. "I wish that this could be it."

"Can it be, just for today?" She realized that she'd never wanted anything more, even if it wasn't right, long term. It felt right, right now. "I need you."

He nodded, understanding how that felt. "Not here." He helped her off the desk, righting the pen cup that he'd knocked over haphazardly. "We'll go to my apartment." He didn't bring people there, ever. Sophie had been the last, and it had been the last time they were together, after she'd realized what kind of man he was. Perhaps she'd always known, but it was the moment she was unable to deny it.

She nodded, taking his hand in hers, as he lead her into the elevator, and down into the snowy streets. He was able to get a cab relatively quickly, and instead of changing her mind, as he suspected she might, she just grasped his hand a little tighter, clinging to him, like he was a life raft of sorts. He wasn't sure what she was drowning in though, but he knew he'd save her regardless. He wasn't usually the white knight type, but he would be for her. He had been before, and he'd do it again. As many times as it took.

The cab dropped them off, in front of his building, and he pulled away momentarily, getting out to help her out of the cab. The idea of her slipping upset him greatly, and he put an arm supportively around her back, and guided her into his lobby.

His apartment was sparsely furnished, and clean. He kept few personal possessions, and he liked it that way. There were a few paintings that he'd purchased, because he'd liked them, not because he knew anything about art. He held the door open for her, and she walked in, taking in his space. They'd always met at her place, with its southern meets city design. "It looks like you."

"Sparse and unattached?" He helped her with her coat.

"Uncomplicated." She turned, grabbing his hand once more, and leading him over to his couch. She sat down, and he pulled her back up.

"If we're doing this, we're doing it right. My room is over here." He didn't want her to be uncomfortable, and he didn't know much about the logistics of sex with someone that was pregnant, since he'd never even pondered it before this afternoon. He knew it was doable though, and it was his child. He wouldn't have considered it otherwise.

She nodded, and followed him to his room, with its heavy wooden furniture, which made her think of his Swedish heritage. It was all very Norse, in a way. Once in the sanctuary of his room, her hands went for the buttons on his shirt, deftly undoing them, and pushing it to the floor, along with his pants. He let her take the lead here, because he was terrified she'd reject him, and change her mind.

She didn't, and he watched as she pulled her sweater off, revealing the most magnificent cleavage he'd ever laid eyes on, and he almost gasped, as he caught his first glimpse of their son. "May I?" He reached for her stomach, as she nodded her acceptance.

"I think he's sleeping. He usually wakes up around dinner to remind me to eat, as if I could forget." She smiled, as his large hands covered the majority of the surface area.

"You look beautiful, right now." He watched her recline on his bed, and he laid down to join her, laying on his side, and kissing her softly.

Sam hadn't touched her stomach since it became evident what was happening in there. He avoided it when they slept together, opting to turn the lights off, or utilize a position that hid the evidence of her relationship with another man. Eric did quite the opposite, rolling onto his back, and taking her hand, as she moved on top of him. He remembered that she quite enjoyed being on top, the first time they were together, and it seemed like the most logical position. If this was going to well and truly be the last time he was going to be with her, he wanted it to be memorable, and he wanted to remember her, just like this, glowing and radiant, as a result of a moment they'd shared before.

She picked up her hips, and slid her underwear off, tossing them to the side, before removing her bra. She wanted every inch of contact he'd give her, since she knew this was it. The connection she felt with him, as she took him inside of her was similar to the one she'd felt with him before she'd caught him making eyes at waitresses, and flirting with stewardesses on their trip to Hawaii. It was as though all of the doubts and fears she had about them, as a couple, together dissipated, and she was left with just him, and the growing reminder of all the things she loved about him, between them.

They moved together, as he slid up against his headboard so he could bring his lips to hers. In a way, he felt like everything changed, in that moment. He had a family. They were his family. All the running around, the hundreds of women he made scream in pleasure, didn't hold a candle to the one in his lap, right now, whose hands ignited his skin wherever they made contact.

He finished, and made sure that she did as well, and then held her, his arm wrapped tightly around her stomach, willing her to stay, when he knew she'd inevitably go. "I should go. Sam will be wondering where I am. I told him I was going shopping."

She didn't have any bags with her, and it had been nearly closing time when he'd run into her. "What were you doing?"

"I just needed some time to think." She choked out, before deciding not to tell him about her rejection yesterday. She didn't want him to think that was why she ended up here, in his bed, after all these months, because it wasn't. It didn't have anything to do with that. She'd needed him long before yesterday, she'd just been far too stubborn to admit it, and that trend showed no sign of going out of style anytime soon. "Thanks for the pie." She'd never thank him for the other. "And the company. It was nice to see you Eric." She got up, fighting back the tears that were almost impossible to stop.

"You too Sookie. Have you seen the new ad campaign?"

"Yea. Business has been great, even with Jason taking a more active role, with me, well, you know." She pulled her dress over her head, and patted her stomach. "I'm sure I'll see you around."

"And you'll call, right?" When she had the baby. He'd tolerate whatever Sam wanted to throw at him, if it meant he could have a half a minute with the two of them.

She nodded, avoiding his eyes. "I will. Good night, and happy holidays."

**Two Weeks Later...**

The next two weeks were hell, for both of them, for various different reasons. Sookie felt a tremendous amount of guilt, for not feeing more guilt over what she'd done. Eric just felt unsettled by what had happened, and wondered if he'd done something terribly wrong in this life or another to feel so conflicted over something he had no control over. She'd made her decision, and he'd have to live with it, just like she did.

Then he stopped, once windy day, in front of Tiffany and Co., and thought to himself, why that was. She'd changed her direction before, as had he, with Sophie. Well, Sophie had changed the direction, but he'd been moved in another direction, and things had worked out. He'd kept moving forward. No matter what happened, he'd always keep moving forward, but if he didn't take the chance, he'd never know how things could have been, only how they were, as a result of his inability, or unwillingness to change his circumstances. He walked in, and walked out with a three-stone engagement ring, firstly because it was different from the ones that Bill and Sam had purchased for her, and secondly, because the stone that represented the present was the largest, and he hoped she'd see the importance of living in the moment, like they'd done two weeks ago, and that the consequences of doing that could never be wrong.

He grabbed a cab to Bon Temps, and was lucky enough to catch her in her office signing paycheques. She looked up, and he couldn't help but notice how tired she looked. He cut right to the chase.

"I'll marry you. We can raise our son together." He pulled a ring box out of his winter coat. "It's not a pity proposal because I knocked you up, and it's not because I'm jealous of you and Mr. Dog Food. It's because I want us to try and make this work. I'll be in Vegas, for work next week. If you want to do this, meet me there, and we'll do it, and deal with the consequences together. If not, let me know where to send the child support checks, and I'll be that unrelated uncle at his birthday parties." He leaned back, against the hardwood door, which he'd fucked her against, in what felt like another life. "I'd try, for you."

Her hands went to her stomach, which had grown considerably, since he saw her last, even though only two week had passed. "I can't do this." Even she wasn't sure what she couldn't do. She found herself torn between her head and her heart, in a way she'd never imagined, especially when it came to Eric. She didn't think him capable of feelings, not like this.

He wasn't sure either, about her thoughts, or his feelings, but he felt optimistic. "Think about it. We had some good times, you and I." He lit two cigarettes and handed her one, and slid the ring box across her desk. "And not just in bed." He smiled at her, and walked out of Bon Temps, never looking back at her. He knew he had to leave it to her, and his lingering presence had the potential to sway her. He wanted her there because she needed to be, like he'd needed to give this one last shot.

She watched him go, waiting until he was at least a block down the road, by her estimation, before she broke down in tears, clutching the ring box tightly.

She'd failed once before, with Bill, and if the way things were going with Sam at this point, she wasn't sure things would be any different. At least with Eric, she knew what she was getting herself into, somewhat, and he'd never lied to her. They'd never had that kind of relationship, where he wasn't himself, in order to impress her. Trying with him, versus, trying with someone else. Those were her options.

He hadn't decided to go to Vegas until he bough the ring, and thought back to his dream about marrying her there. He'd had some companies interested in working with his firm, so he knew he'd have no problems securing meetings. He'd either enjoy it with her, or he'd enjoy it forgetting her. Those were the options, and he'd laid his cards out on the table, and now it was up to her. Feeling a bit lighter, he went about his work, secured appointments, and updated his rolodex with some Vegas contacts.

**One Week Later...**

He sat down in first class and ordered a scotch, stretching out and enjoying the excess of legroom. He hadn't heard from her, but he hadn't expected to either. She was either in Vegas, or she wasn't. That was how they'd left it.

She'd booked the ticket the day before, ignoring the excess extra charges that came with being so indecisive. She'd left a note for Sam, telling him that she was out of town on business, along with the name of the hotel that Eric's secretary told her that he was booked at. She had the feeling that he'd told her to pass the information on if anyone called, by her reaction to her on the phone.

Sam would be confused, but then when he thought about it, he wouldn't be, as she'd left her engagement ring on the note. There was no way that he thought things were going well, with her, and the growing space that grew along with her stomach, and he'd probably be relieved, in the long term, to be rid of her, at least that's what she told herself, as she frantically packed her suitcase with the best Vegas options she had to cover her growing body. She called her driver, and made it to the airport in record time, despite the poor weather conditions. She made it through the boarding gate just as the last call announcement went over the loudspeaker.

The only seat available was in coach. She never flew coach, but, as uncomfortable as it was going to be in her condition, she'd do it, if that was what it took. She walked through first class, knowing that was where Eric would sit, but she didn't notice him in the thirty seconds it took to pass through, before she was shuffled back with the masses. She wasn't even sure if he'd be on this flight. There were a couple each day.

She didn't see him until they were about twenty minutes from landing, and he walked past her on his way back from the bathroom. She felt a huge sigh of relief, as his eyes lit up when he saw her, and knew she'd made the right decision. "You came."

"I did."

"And you're sitting back here." He glanced at her, stuffed into her seat, an old man practically snoring on her shoulder.

"It was all that was available."

He smirked at her, knowing she'd waited until the last minute to make her decision, and reached over, and tapped the old man's shoulder. "Excuse me."

He stirred. "Yes?"

"Would you like to take my seat in first class? I'd like to sit with my fiancee."

The old man grumbled good naturedly, and made his way to first class, leaving his seat free. "You're going to be almost as uncomfortable here as I am." She slid over, leaving him the isle seat.

He reached over and squeezed her hand, twisting the engagement ring he'd given her on her finger. "A small price to pay for the company."


	3. Chapter 3

**Okay, this is it, really. I couldn't leave it all nice, not if it's inspired by my favourite ad man! Hope you like!**

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**Nine Months Later...**

He was surprised to see her at the door, when he got home at around 2am. "Where have you been?" She eyed him, her hands on her hips.

"Out, meeting with clients." He dropped his briefcase by the door. "Why are you still up?" He'd been looking forward to crawling into bed with her, and fucking her after Andy's 6am feeding.

"Andy was hungry. I just put him back to bed. We need to talk."

"Oh?" He raised his eyebrows. She'd gotten a call from Jason's wife Crystal a few hours earlier, letting her know that her husband had been getting handsey with some waitress at a bar uptown. She didn't know how far he was taking things, but after less than a year of marriage, and more than one phone call from various people about her husband's canoodling, she'd had enough. He sat down on the couch. "What is it?"

"It's you, and the fact that you seem to have no problem embarrassing me all over town with a bunch of cheap women, while I stay home and breastfeed your son." Sookie narrowed her eyes at him, and crossed her arms over her chest. "I was willing to give you the benefit of the doubt on this one, since Crystal is a lying bitch, but you have lipstick on your collar." She reached up, pulled it around and showed it to him.

Ah yes. The waitress. He'd only began to flirt with her after Alcide had called him out in front of a bunch of their junior staffers as a pussy whipped bitch, when he attempted to go home at a reasonable hour. The lipstick on his collar was hardly an indication of how the night had went. "I didn't fuck her."

"It doesn't matter, Eric, if you fucked her or not. You've made me look like a fool." She raised her chin that way she did when she was really angry. "Tell me why I shouldn't kick you out."

He thought about it, and didn't really have a good reason. "Do you think now would be a good time to set up some terms, for our marriage?"

"No." She rolled her eyes. "It's a marriage, Eric. That should be it. How would you feel if I spent night after night downstairs sucking face with a few handsome young men? Because if that's what your idea of a marriage is, on your end, then I can go along with that. We can get a nanny for Andrew, and we can both make fools of ourselves and each other all over town." She shook her head. "Then what kind of shit would the boys give you? You know my track record. I'm certainly not beyond embarrassing my husband."

Eric knew she wasn't bluffing on that one. He'd been a witness, and a participant in the ultimate destruction of her last husband. The man wouldn't even get elected to the PTA now, if he had a shitload of kids. "So then what do you suggest we do, to keep each other from looking like fools. I'm not really up for a fool-making contest darling."

"I don't want you fucking anyone else. I know you fucked around on me, in the beginning, when I first had Andy, and I let it go, because I certainly wasn't in a position to be fucking you, but I am now, and I won't tolerate it."

"I didn't fuck around on you." Well, he thought, not in the strictest sense of the word, not much, anyway. There'd been a blowjob here and there, when he travelled on business, but not sex in real terms, besides the first time.

"I had you followed, so there's no need to lie to me. I know, and you're still here, so obviously, I've gotten over it, but it stops now. You have a decision to make, Mr. Northman, and until you make it, the couch in my office downstairs is available to you. You can be all in, in terms of this marriage, or fold now. You're a good dad, but a really lousy husband." Her voice wavered on the last part. He was a good dad, better than any she'd seen. Even as a tiny baby, their son worshipped the ground his dad walked on. The idea of him in the throes of intimacy with another woman infuriated her though.

"So what are your terms then?" He sat down on the couch. She stood. He wondered what exactly she knew. She thought it didn't matter. She knew enough.

"I've told you. I told you in Vegas. Fidelity. I don't know how to keep a man like you faithful, but I'll do what it takes, on my end, but you need to do what it takes on yours too. I don't want to get any more calls about your canoodling with low end whores. If Alcide gives you shit, then you take it. Knock him out, I don't care, but you don't need to prove to him that you're an asshole." She knew what the old boys club in advertising was like, because as much respect as she got at company parties, it was obvious that there was a code of sorts, when it came to women and work. "That's my condition, and you can take it or leave it."

"Sookie, I really haven't fucked anyone else." The idea of knocking anyone else up scared the hell out of him, and besides that, he did love the two of them, and he knew that would be a deal breaker. He'd realized that when he'd done it, but that was neither here nor there. It was a one time thing, he told himself, not worth bringing up. He'd been walking a fine deal breaking line though, with the other things, testing his limits. Clearly he'd reached them.

"I don't want your dick out of your pants, unless you're in a sauna discussing advertising with a bunch of shriveled up old men, or I'm in the room. Can I be any clearer?" She spat at him, in a condescending tone. "Do you need a diagram?" So his extracurricular activities were off limits. He'd suspected as much.

"No, I don't need a diagram." He looked at her, expecting more. She didn't have any other conditions, at this point in time. She knew he wasn't the kind of man to give without receiving, so that wasn't a conversation they needed to have. "I'm giving you a week, like you gave me one. Sleep on the couch, get a hotel room, do what you need to do, but I'm not interested in doing anything half-way with you." She wasn't interested, because she loved him, despite how hard she tried to convince herself otherwise at times. Even now, when she was furious with him, she still cared about him in a way that was different from how she'd cared for anyone else. It was more. She looked across at him, from the chair she'd dropped into, and felt an inkling of the same thing from him, at least that was how she interpreted it. "If you want to do this, with us, then meet me downstairs at Bon Temps, in our booth in the back in a week for dinner."

Their booth. He'd always thought of it as that, but wasn't aware that she did. "What about Andy?"

"What about him?" She raised an eyebrow.

"I don't get to see him?"

"I'm not cruel, but I don't want to see you. We can make arrangements." All things considered, she was being rather kind about things, he thought, not just throwing him out, and giving him an option. He knew what she was doing. She wanted him to pick them, just as she had, when he'd shown up with her ring.

"What if I don't want to go?" He didn't. "Then what?"

"I don't really care what you want. You need to want this a bit more than you do." She got up and moved beside him on the couch. "I see that you have the potential in you, to be what Andy and I deserve, but you aren't living up to your potential." She'd had a bit of a life revelation, with Bill, that she felt that not many women of her generation had. She deserved better, and she felt it again, but where as she knew Bill was all he was ever going to be, she couldn't shake the feeling that Eric wasn't, which was probably irritated her most. That and being made a fool of, once again. She wouldn't tolerate that.

"I see." He did see. He wasn't stupid, anymore than she was, and the idea of her lips on anyone else infuriated him, just as it had when he'd first seen her kissing Sam that night he'd fucked the hostess in the bathroom. He wasn't sure of their timeline, and since they'd never been official, it wasn't as though she was cheating, but was was dangerously close to their talk about seeing other people. "I do love you." He stood up. "And I'll see you in a week."

"I hope so, and I hope things will be different." She lifted her chin again, but this time he noticed her eyes were a bit watery. He wanted to just leave, as to not get emotional, but instead knelt down beside her on the floor beside the couch, and took her hands in his.

"I'm sorry."

She pulled them away and wiped her eyes. "Actions speak louder than words. Really be sorry, and we'll do this for real, if that's what you want. If it isn't, the next time we won't be having this conversation. Your shit will be all over Madison Avenue, and I'll change the locks."

He went into their room, where he'd first fucked her, while her husband listened, threw some things in a suitcase, and headed out the door. He willed her to ask him to stay, but, as he predicted, she didn't. He knew his wife better than she thought. She didn't back down from anything.

He slept like shit in the hotel, and couldn't help but wonder how she was sleeping, in their huge bed, which they'd bought to accommodate his height. She'd tossed and turned throughout her pregnancy, but slept like a rock now.

After a few sleepless hours, he turned the television on, and it was then he realized why she'd sent him away. She wanted him to miss her. He did. He'd spent nights apart from her, in the past, many times, but he knew that she was there, and they were together. This was different. He'd taken her to the end of her rope, and he wasn't sure they'd bounce back. He knew what he had to do to fix things, but he wasn't sure he knew how to fix himself. He was the problem here, and he'd always been. That was a bit hard to swallow, when he thought of it in those terms.

He'd fucked it.

Eric thought back to the first time he'd strayed, after they married. He'd felt incredibly guilty. It was about a month before Andy was born, and he was in Miami for work for a week. She even looked like Sookie, full red lips, big breasts, curvy figure, long blond hair. He'd met her at a bar in the hotel where he was staying, then one thing had led to another, and his wedding band was stuffed in his pocket, and she was blowing him on a South Beach balcony. He'd fucked her on the dresser, the idea of having another woman in bed too intimate. She'd angled to stay with him, and he'd shut that down quite quickly, and had her out the door before midnight.

He'd drawn himself a line that night, with a shaky hand. He didn't want to feel like he felt again, like a piece of shit. He still had his guilty moments, when he'd think of her, during the act, so he tried not to do that. It wasn't often, maybe once or twice a month, and usually with some unsuspecting stewardess. He'd always been a sucker for a girl in uniform.

Sookie wasn't sure if he'd be back, and she only wanted him back if he was going to try. He'd tried, for a few months, while she was pregnant, however, slowly, but surely, he'd fallen into old habits. She'd known almost immediately. He'd changed. He wasn't as open as he had been, when they'd gone mad and thought that love, and a baby were enough. She did love him though, she had for a long time, although she didn't even admit that to him. He'd been an amazing friend to her, when she was dealing with the situation with Bill, supporting her in lots of ways, besides the sex. They'd talked for hours about their hopes and dreams, silly things that people don't tell enough people. She knew him, and, in a twisted way, she knew why he was fucking around. It was because he was afraid to admit to himself that they were enough, because it meant he'd need her. He was afraid of getting hurt, possibly even more than she was, and so he was sabotaging himself. It was easier to be able to blame the decline of their relationship on his inability to be faithful, than a personal failure on his part.

It made her sad, knowing he felt like that, because she was fairly certain they worked. She wouldn't have married him otherwise. It also helped that he was the anti-Bill, besides his infidelity. Lots of men cheated. Her daddy cheated on her mom, and she'd taken it for years. But it didn't mean that she had to, or that she wanted to raise her son to think it was acceptable to engage in that sort of behavior. Times were changing, and the woman's movement was picking up steam. She considered herself a part of that change too, running her own successful business, while raising a child with very little help, outside of Eric.

The week passed without event. There were no violent outbursts, no angry moments. Eric picked Andy up from Lafayette at the restaurant a couple of afternoons, while Sookie avoided him, by staying in her office, and pretending she didn't hear his voice, asking about her. She got a lot of work done, hired for a couple of positions that she'd been putting off, and arranged for a temporary worker to clean out the stockroom.

He worked, like usual, but found that he was looking at the women in his office in a different way. They presented a threat like they hadn't before, like doing the wrong thing would cost him more than he was perhaps willing to spend. His afternoons with Andy were great, but he couldn't help but feel like he was letting him down, if he didn't fix himself. He didn't want this little man to be any less great because he was a mess. He didn't want to see him an afternoon a week. He liked tucking him in at night, and marking his growth with Sookie, through his smiles and and movements. He was amazing, and even though he was a just six months old, he already had this little personality, a perfect mix of the two of them, stubborn, yet suave.

Lafayette had told him she was fine, but he would always be loyal to her over him, and Eric was quite certain that he wouldn't have told him if she lost a limb, if she'd asked him not to. Lafayette had given him a look of pity, when he dropped Andy back off at Bon Temps, which Eric didn't know how to interpret. They'd always gotten along quite well. He was on his way out the door, when Lafayette shouted him to. "Get your fuckin' act together. She's worth it."

Eric had nodded and left. He wasn't surprised that she'd told him. He was her closest friend. What struck him about his reaction was that he wasn't angry, with him, and looked like instead he felt sorry for him. He was missing out on things. It was his loss. She had friends, and family, and a very full life. He had work, and a random blowjob in an airplane bathroom on a business trip.

And then it was Saturday. They both woke up, and marked the day in different ways. She took Andy to the park, and he went for a drive. He rarely drove anywhere, but decided to take a drive down the shore. After stopping at Coney Island for lunch, he went for a walk on the boardwalk, trying to figure out the right thing to say, and what he really wanted. He wanted to be happy. That was what it came down to.

When she slid into the booth at about 7pm, after sending Andy off with Lafayette for a few hours, Eric was already sitting there, looking like water in a desert. She wasn't going to make things easy on him though, she'd decided that a week ago. It wasn't going to be a matter of him just saying things would be different. She'd told herself she'd know if he was lying.

"You came." She said, trying to play it cool, but kind of unable to hide her excitement. He didn't look ready to spew lipservice. He had a sort of sincere, resigned look about him. She hoped that was a good thing.

"You came." He raised an eyebrow. "I'm glad."

"How long have you been sitting here?"

He cracked a grin. "Since 4:30. You didn't specify a time."

She smiled back. "We don't even serve dinner until 5pm."

"I'll do it. I know you don't have to believe me, and, frankly, I'm not sure if I'd believe me either, but I mean it. I'll try and be the person you deserve, because you deserve someone great."

She took a deep breath. "I mean it. I don't want any phone calls, I don't want to know you're lying to me. You've lost your free pass. This is it. Stackhouse-Northman's last stand. It could last for five minutes, or fifty years. It's all on you."

Fifty years. Eric felt himself sweat, a bit. This could work out terribly, or it could be amazing. His life with them. He put his chips down. "I'm in. However you want me to be in, I'm in."


End file.
